


Carry me

by Chatote



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, angsty, at the beach, in the sun, on vacations, post-armagedon, snake!Crowley(for a bit)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chatote/pseuds/Chatote
Summary: Crowley takes Aziraphale on vacations for Christmas, but debts have to be paid.





	1. Chapter 1

The Christmas decorations were far too ostentatious in Crowley's opinion. Whoever thought hanging up tinsels of orange angels was a good idea should be fired and sent straight up to the darkest corner of Hell. 

He jumped out of the rented car, his Bentley being in the careful hands of the witch—Anathema—with for strict instruction _not_ to let the other human touch it in _any_ circumstances. Crowley had had enough proof during the failed Armageddon that this man could not handle technology in any way and was most likely to turn the precious car into ashes just by looking at it. 

He ran under the rain and pushed the bookshop’s door open, blatantly ignoring the _‘Closed’_ sign. Inside, candles had been placed all around the room (1), efficiently setting an atmosphere of mystery—though it probably wasn’t their main purpose—and throwing dancing shadows on the dark wooden floor. Dust was flying in the air. The walls were hidden by tall shelves where books as old as time were resting, waiting patiently for someone to open them, turn their tired pages and set eyes on the ancient words. An old couch in the centre was inviting the visitor to sit and bury themselves into the stories, and forget the outside world. But that wasn’t what Crowley was looking for at the moment. 

Miracling his clothes dry, he turned toward the oak-desk in the furthest corner. There, his angel was sat, oblivious to the new-comer, his glasses sliding off his nose as he bent over a recently acquired Bible—a rare book with only three copies in the world.

With a wide grin, the demon walked swiftly toward him, and stood behind his back. He leaned in as to put his lips near the other’s ear. 

“Hello, angel,“ he breathed out. Said angel jumped out of his skin (2) and glared at his aggressor. Crowley was laughing heartily, tears rolling down his cheeks from behind the sun-glasses. 

“Crowley,“ Aziraphale greeted him, taking off his own reading glasses and wiping them with great attention to give himself countenance. “I didn’t expect you so early.“

Had he paid more attention, he would have seen that Crowley was bouncing up and down, the wide grin still splitting his face in two, as if some mischief was about to take place. 

“Oh, you know, simply a surprise visit,“ he said with a well-controlled voice. “It’s Christmas after all, isn’t it?“ Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

“You don’t celebrate Christmas.“

“No, I don’t. That would be quite a strange sight though, wouldn’t it? A demon celebrating the Christ’s birth… _That_ ’s something that would cause a lot of chatter at the Vatican. Maybe…“

“Have you brought some wine?“ Aziraphale asked quickly, with the hope of chasing any idea from his friend’s mind. That would indeed cause a lot of chatter at the Vatican, and he had no wish of taking care of an outraged Pope. 

The strategy was efficient, for Crowley suddenly stopped fidgeting and smoothed down his clothes, his smiling face morphing into the controlled features of a bank director. 

“No,“ he answered. “I have better.“

“What?“ Aziraphale said, arching an eye-brow. They had agreed a long time ago that there was seldom better than getting drunk in the back-room of a Soho bookshop with Queen playing in the background (3). Crowley took a candy cane from Aziraphale’s desk and bit it, the over-sugared taste filling his mouth. He scowled in disgust.

“This,“ he said seriously, taking two plane tickets out of his jacket.

“This?“ Aziraphale repeated, not recognising the piece of paper. Crowley sighed. 

“Two tickets for Malé, leaving in four hours,“ he explained. “I’m taking you on vacations.“

The rain’s harsh beating on the window and the roar of cars in the street gave a dramatic aspect to the scene that Crowley greatly appreciated. It emphasised the silence Aziraphale had fallen into. 

“You’re taking me on…“ the angel murmured eventually. “You’re taking me on vacation.“ He blinked. “Where?“

“The Maldives,“ Crowley said with a smile. “Better going while they’re still over-water.“ Aziraphale stared at him disapprovingly. 

“And may I know why?“ 

Crowley coughed and passed a hand through his messy hair. He had expected his angel to get excited and happy and wasn’t prepared for the full interrogation that was apparently about to take place. 

“Do I need to have a reason?“ he retorted, slightly hurt. 

“You don’t need to but you usually have one.“ 

Crowley sighed. “Look, it’s been months since Armageddon,“ he said. “You’ve not been yourself since then, it’s Christmas and I have two plane tickets for the Maldives. You just have to smile and say ‘Thank’s Crowley, you’re the nicest demon I have ever met’.“

Aziraphale did smile at his friend’s antiques and, capitulating, stood up and grabbed his coat. Crowley, much relieved, took a deep breath. The sweet smell of vanilla and old books slowing his racing heart. 

“I do have one last question, dear boy,“ Aziraphale said as they walked out of the shop, the rain having decided to rest for a few minutes. 

“Fire away,“ Crowley said, stepping into a pond and sending drops of water all around. Some landed on Aziraphale’s long coat, leaving dark wet points on the fabric.

“Why a plane? Flying would be much faster and less… annoying,“ the angel said (4). 

Crowley shrugged and looked away. “You like doing things the human way,“ he muttered. Aziraphale was pretty satisfied with the answer and didn’t push further. 

 

  1. Given that said room was filled with books, one would have said that it was quite a dangerous thing to do, but Aziraphale had confidence in his abilities to extinguish any fire that would dare to start. 
  2. Not _literally_ out of skin, though it had happened once. Aziraphale had been absorbed by an Ancient Egypt ritual in 2503 BC. When Crowley had surprised him, his spirit had utterly left his human flesh and flight straight up to heaven. This had led to much paperwork, lots of mockeries from Gabriel and Crowley had not stop bringing it up until a thousand years later. 
  3. The last addition was Crowley’s. Aziraphale could easily do without it.
  4. He had developed a mix of hatred, disgust and fear of plane in the 1960s and had taken great care of keeping it hidden from Crowley. 




	2. Chapter 2

  
The cab’s driver was surprised at the lack of luggage when Crowley told her they were heading to Heathrow airport, but she didn’t make any commentary and let the two friends in peace during the trip. It didn’t took long to get to the airport (1). Crowley gave a generous tip once she had dropped them at the appropriate Terminal.   
As soon as they entered the overcrowded hall, Aziraphale felt his face turn red, and a shin of sweat tingled his forehead. Families, couples, business women and men, groups of friends and other travellers were forming a mix of bright red, blue, yellow, grim black and dim grey over the white walls. The cacophony of shouts, cries and laughs made him wish he had stayed in his peaceful shop.   
Crowley, on the other hand, seemed happy enough (2). He was strolling past the desks at which lines of tourists pushing and pulling heavy luggages were lined up.   
Three hours were separating them from the departure. In the hope of relaxing himself, Aziraphale had bought a tea at one of the dozen coffee shop, a tasteless beverage that burned his tongue and had of tea only the name.   
Once the Check-In done, a process that took the best part of an hour, they head toward the Security Control. As they approached it, Crowley pulled him on the side, a wall separating them from curious eyes.   
“There’s something I’ve forgotten to tell you,“ Crowley said, looking around over his sunglasses. The artificial light made his golden eyes shine more than usual. “I’m still searched for Armageddon. Apparently, I’m suspected of burning a part of Soho, starting with your bookshop.“  
Aziraphale spilt his tea.   
“You what?“ he shrieked. “Why didn’t you say anything?“  
“And the M25,“ Crowley added pensively. “I mean, I could have burned up half of Soho, but I would never touch the M25. She’s my baby! My Joconde! My fifth symphony! My Bohemian Rhapsody!“  
“Crowley,“ Aziraphale said to interrupted the other’s ramble. Crowley blinked and came back to reality.   
“The security check, right. It’s easy to make random policemen forget about it and the Check-In was easy enough to trick, but I haven’t managed to erase myself from all the databases. Do you know how many of them there is? Do you know how many files are created for someone who’s suspected of setting fire in Westminster? Let me tell you, angel, it’s an over-reaction. Humans always over-react.“  
Aziraphale sighed. At this rate, they’d still be here by the time their plane took off.   
“Crowley,“ he repeated more urgently.   
“Right, back to the point. The bad news is, I can’t pass the security check. The good news is, I have a solution. The good-or-bad-depends-on-who-you-are news is, one of us is going to love this. And you know I hate being a serpent.“  
“Why does it matter that you hat—“ Aziraphale began to say with a deep frown. Before he could finish, however, Crowley had disappear and a long green and black serpent had taken his place. Said serpent was worming himself under Aziraphale’s trousers and winding around his legs.   
The angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his fist clenching involuntary. He could feel the other’s smooth skin and strong muscles slide on his owns.   
“Crowley, what are you doing?“ he whispered, putting as much anger in his voice as he could.   
“Shhhh, I’m hiding,“ the serpent replied, his tongue tickling Aziraphale’s sensitive skin.   
“In my pants!“   
But Crowley staid silent, and Aziraphale found himself suddenly alone in an airport with a serpent round his leg (3).  
Trying to forget about all the problems that would arise after the security control—how was Crowley supposed to get into the plane?—if he did manage to pass them, Aziraphale took his first hesitant steps.   
The worst thing was, he pondered as two women glances at him and his oddly shaped legs, he couldn’t think of a better solution. He highly doubted, however, that Crowley had ‘forgotten’ about this. The snake was clenching his legs, and Aziraphale could feel its head at the top of his right thigh. Thank’s Go- Heav- Thank’s all that is good that he had chosen to wear large trousers for the flight, and not one of those slim jeans Crowley always tried to get him into.   
A long queue had formed before the Security. Finishing his tea with two gulps and throwing the cup in the first bin he found, Aziraphale started to wait as calmly and normally as he could. If people were surprised at the total absence of bags on his person, they didn’t say anything.   
Crowley squeezed his calf suddenly, making his knee buckle. He tripped but managed somehow to avoid falling—which would have been a catastrophe (4). Five minutes later, the queue had barely moved and Aziraphale had bumped into three people, spilled some coffee on his jumper, and was pretty sure the family before him thought he was some sort of psychopath. In his opinion, Crowley was having the time of his very long life, hidden in his pants.   
Crossing his arms in a defensive stance, he found some last ashes of patience. What was the worst thing that could happen anyway? They were celestial beings! An Angel and a Demon, a part of the ineffable plan. It would be alright.   
If Crowley could plan some nice vacations for the two of them, Aziraphale could do this. Nodding curtly and clenching his jaw once his turn had come, Aziraphale reached the desk in two wide steps. He didn’t have anything to put into the plastic baskets and went directly toward the metal detector.  
That is when trouble truly began.   
The security agent made him sign to pass through the scanning equipment, which Aziraphale did brilliantly—no alarm went off and no over-bright light turned red. He was about to go on his way, probably to find some private place so that Crowley could go back to his human-form. As he headed away, however, the agent stopped him.   
“Sir,“ she said. “Wait a minute, please.“ Aziraphale turned to look at her. She was staring at his legs, her eyes going from his waist to his feet and up again several times. He felt himself flush and found the temperature far too hot, all of a sudden. He pulled at his collar.   
The agent whispered to one of her colleagues, a tall man who could have been a bodyguard, and pointed at him.   
“Could you come this way, Sir?“ the agent asked him. Aziraphale felt more like running the other way, but complied without protest. He could feel Crowley trying to make himself as flat and little as possible.   
“Is there a problem?“ Aziraphale asked as he and the man went in a separated box. He could feel the eyes of multiple passengers following them. The agent pulled the curtains and turned to face him.   
“We just need to check something. I have to search you. Do you have any problem with that?“  
Aziraphale coughed. He was in what one would call ‘an unsolvable scenario’. If he agreed, Crowley was out. If he refused, well, that would lead to a myriad of problems he didn’t want to think about.   
“None at all,“ he said eventually, choosing the easiest of the two possibilities. It gave him a few seconds to think of what to do. He put himself in position.   
The few seconds the agent took to feel his arms, back and body wasn’t sufficient. When he bend down to feel Aziraphale’s legs, it was too late. He stood up and looked at Aziraphale right in the eyes.  
“Sir, what do you have in your trousers?“ he asked, a hand on his weapon and the other on his radio.   
“Well, you see…“ Aziraphale stuttered awkwardly. “It’s a long story and—“ But the agent didn’t have time for such attempts of explaining oneself. He drew his weapon out slightly as a sign of warning.   
“Pull your trousers down.“   
Now, that wasn’t something Aziraphale was asked to do very often. In this circumstances, he froze for a second at the idea, but being suspected of carrying a bomb was a far worse possibility. He could always use one or two miracles to get him and Crowley out of here, though it wasn’t the purpose of those powers. At all.   
Resigning himself, he closed his eyes and began to unbuckle his belt. To his great relief and to the agent’s greater amazement, before he could complete the gesture, the serpent crawled down his legs and out of his clothes, and morphed into a black-haired human-shaped being with yellow eyes.   
“That is, er, problematic,“ Crowley said, passing a hand through his messy hair. Aziraphale felt like bumping his head on the wall. As for the agent, he was blinking incredulously, trying to comprehend what had just happened.   
“What do we do?“ Aziraphale asked urgently. Crowley had closed his eyes and a deep frown had settled on his face. “Crowley!“   
When the demon reopened his eyes a moment later, he looked more guilty than Aziraphale had seen him since the invention of noisy children-toys (5).   
“That can’t happen,“ he was muttering under his breath. “I thought… But it can’t…“ His face turned pale and his eyes widen at a realisation Aziraphale didn’t have the knowledge of.   
“Crowley!“ The agent was coming round to quickly too please Aziraphale.   
“I-“ Crowley began. He cleared his throat. “You remember when I told you I couldn’t erase myself from all the databases? Well, I thought I could. I just wanted to er… Whatever. The point is, I can’t. I tried but I can’t.“  
Aziraphale sighed. “That’s something you would do.“  
“What do we do?“ Crowley asked. He was, for once, at a lost.   
“We run,“ Aziraphale said. And so they did.

  1. Crowley miracled their way through the traffic jam. The trip was the smoothest this driver had ever made. 
  2. Planes had been Heaven’s invention, as far as he could recall, but airport had been Hell’s. No angel could have imagined such a busy, annoying and yet irreplaceable place.
  3. If your best friend turn themselves into a serpent and clung to a part of your anatomy as if their life depended on it, you are allowed to consider yourself alone. 
  4. And would probably have recreated this scene in Harry Potter where a snake is freed and all the zoo’s visitors panic—not that Aziraphale had read the books—he had. 
  5. An invention Crowley had been proud of until all his neighbours had bought them and he couldn’t go anywhere without hearing some silly songs and cheerful advices said by robotic shrilling voices.




	3. Chapter 3

During all his time on Earth—which encompassed a few thousand years— Aziraphale had only gone into an airport three times. 

The first time had been in the early 20th century, Germany. At that time, he was wandering through Europe, having left France in 1900 after some painful events. Words had come to him that the HLG was funding the construction of an airport near Hamburg. Aziraphale had taken this chance to fly away from memories.  
The third time hasn’t come yet and, since it is not related to the current story, we will not speak of it.  
The second time was a failure. One could see it as an experience—Crowley would—but as Aziraphale ran through the corridors (1), jumped over luggages and bumped into innocent travellers, his hand pulled by the demon with enough strength to dislodge his shoulder, he couldn’t. Around them, alarms were blaring.  
Chastising himself for having taken the worst decision when they could have simply erased the agent’s memory—though it was against his ethics—Aziraphale kept running.  
It seemed that Security agents were appearing out of no-where. A dozen were running behind them, shouting and pointing at them with their guns—which Aziraphale had turned into water pistols, no need for collateral damages. At last, they came near a window and, making it disappear in the blink of an eye, Crowley stormed outside. There, without any hesitation, the two beings expanded their wings and flew away.  
The temperature dropped fast, making Aziraphale shiver. It had stopped snowing, at least.  
“What have you done?“ Aziraphale shouted to Crowley once his heartbeat had returned to a normal rhythm. He hoped the demon would hear him over the blow of the wind. Crowley looked away.  
“I’ve burned the whole network.“ If flying wasn’t a reflex as breathing is, Aziraphale would have straight up fall down to Earth (2).  
“You what?“ he shrieked. Crowley slowed down and let Aziraphale catch up with him.  
“This human has infected me with his inability to use technology,“ he tried to explain. Aziraphale snorted.  
“Let’s be real, angel. Apart from the Berkeley, you’ve never been a technology genius,“ he said. “Newt has nothing to do with that.“  
Crowley was so offended he didn’t speak for half the journey and, even then, only if Aziraphale asked something, and answered in the shortest way possible. Once they had reached the Indian Ocean, he took the lead and headed toward a group of small islands, far away from the continent.

  
The sun was burning Aziraphale’s neck. They were standing on a beach, their feet in the cold clear water. Before them, the ocean was spreading behind the horizon, melting with the azure sky in a blurry line. In their back, a thin forest of palm trees was home to lizards, parrots, bats and many other wild creatures.  
“We can stay as long as we want,“ Crowley said, breaking the silence that had installed itself since they had landed. Aziraphale didn’t turn to look at him, but could easily imagine his yellow eyes shining beneath the bright sun, his messy hair curling with the humidity of the air and his two black shoes and socks secured in his hand, with his trousers rolled up to his knees. “There won’t be another Armageddon here.“  
Aziraphale frowned. The Armageddon seemed to have affected Crowley more than he had previously thought. Those last months, the demon had grown more weary, hiding it with a restless lifestyle, which Aziraphale had taken for the happiness of keeping the world as it was. « You haven’t been yourself since then. » Hadn’t he? Sure, Aziraphale had been what one could call paranoiac, at first, expecting another trick from Hell, but the stress and anxiety had been gone for weeks. Had Crowley been talking about himself back in Soho?  
“What’s happening?“  
Crowley’s voice startled him. Regaining his countenance, Aziraphale shook his head.  
“Nothing,“ he replied as truthfully as he could. “Everything’s alright.“  
“You’re muttering and your forehead is wrinkled,“ Crowley said, shaking his head. “Your forehead is always wrinkled when you’re worried.“  
A ray swam near them, its wings moving gracefully up and down, sending small waves on the two beings’ calfs. Aziraphale observed it as it came closer to them before heading toward the deep ocean.  
“I was thinking,“ he said as the fish reminded him of a conversation that had taken place long ago, “whether rays were fishes or mammals.“  
“Uh—“ Crowley put his glasses on “—Fishes. They don’t have brains.“  
“Er, I’m pretty sure they do,“ Aziraphale said (3), remembering a book he had read, “Deep down the Big Blue Sea“ it was called, or something like that.  
“How do you want them to have a brain?“ the demon cried out outrageously. “They’re too flat to have a brain!“  
“I’m not drunk enough for this,“ Aziraphale sighed, rubbing his eyes.  
“That's something I can help with,“ Crowley said mischievously. He turned around and walked out of the water. Aziraphale followed, intrigued.  
It turned out that Crowley had thought about everything, and they were soon sat side by side in the shadow of tree, drinking straight from the bottle of red wine. Birds were chirping and singing above them.  
“We’re pirates,“ Crowley exclaimed in a loud drunken voice.  
“You’re a pirate,“ the angel retorted. “I’m the Navy Captain who’s trying to stop you.“  
“Nah, I’m Jack Sparrow and you’re my fellow Gibbs, and I’ve taken you to the other side of the world.“  
“Who’s Jack Sparrow?“  
“He’s a pirate from, from… I don’t remember. Somewhere in the Caribbean? He had a big ship and a nice hat.“  
“We’re not in the Caribbeans. And you don’t have a ship. Beside, I don’t think you would be a good pirate, my boy. A pirate without a ship isn’t a pirate just like a… a…“  
“A mammal without a brain isn’t a mammal?“ Crowley proposed.  
Aziraphale shook his head.  
“No. But that’s okay, I guess.“  
Crowley pondered deeply.  
“Angel, do you think we’re mammals?“  
“…“  
“Humans are mammals. I think. Their brain is something around 3 pounds. It’s heavy enough to be called a mammal.“  
“Why do you know the weight of a human brain?“  
“I don’t know, I just do,“ Crowley said. “But we’re not humans, but we’re in a human body, you know? If we’re not humans but have a human body, does that mean we don’t have a real body? What do we look like?“  
“I think humans would say we’re, er, souls,“ Aziraphale gambled, scratching his head. “Not material stuff but spirits who can enter a human body and control it.“  
“I am a soul?“  
Aziraphale shrugged.  
“I don’t know, it’s all this stuff about eternity and the universe being so big humans can’t be the only life form. So souls can travel from one planet to another and create life.“  
“How do they travel from one planet to another?“  
“They have spaceships.“  
“How can they build spaceships if they don’t have a material form?“  
“I guess they use the body they control.“  
“But how did the first souls did to travel to a planet where there was bodies if they didn’t have hands to build a spaceship?“  
“Uh.“  
“I am a soul.“  
“You’re a demon.“  
Crowley shook his head.  
“I’m not just that. I’m like a. I’m like a— like a rainbow! Rainbows have hundreds colours, not just blue, and people have hundreds different things in their lives, not just demon or angel. I have—“ he started to count on his fingers—“plants and the Bentley and Queen and, er.“  
“The M25,“ Aziraphale granted. “I don’t think rainbows have hundred colours, though. They have only six? Seven? It’s all about the spectrum and the waves and—“  
“And it was a mete— a metaphe— a metaphor,“ Crowley mumbled.  
“Yes, that too.“  
They fell silent again. The sun was disappearing, and an orange coat had spread over the ocean. In the sky, stars were slowly appearing, shinning bright over the darkening blue. Despite the hot temperature, Crowley quivered.  
Remembering his earlier reflection, Aziraphale wrinkled his brow. His mouth felt dry suddenly, and he glanced at Crowley. There were dark rings under his eyes, and he was staring into the void, his hand tracing circles on his thigh.  
A cloud flew over them. Aziraphale sobered up and cleared his throat.  
“Crowley,“ he whispered, as if to hide what he was going to say. The demon, alerted by this tone, tensed. “I know the Arrangement doesn’t require you to— I know I have no right to—“ he shifted “—What I’m to say is, if there was something bothering you, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?“  
Out of the corner of the eye, Aziraphale saw Crowley blink slowly, his head tilting slightly on the left. He stayed silent for a full minute before giving an answer.  
“Yes, angel. I would.“ Aziraphale nodded and didn’t push further.  
The sun having disappeared, there was no point in staying on the beach. Aziraphale enquired as to what they were supposed to do, but Crowley, having not yet sobered up (4), smirked and refused to give in.  
“It would ruin the surprise,“ he told Aziraphale. They stood up, stretched their limbs painfully after having stayed sat for such long hours and, talking the empty bottles with them, headed toward the centre of the island.  
The ground was covered with decomposing leaves, old coconuts and pebbles. Under his feet, Aziraphale could feel life swarm and prosper. A black spider ran onto his ankle at one point, and disembarked a few steps later.  
They kept walking for half and hour. Obscurity had won its battle against Light, and was reigning as queen, making it almost impossible to see what was three meters ahead. Small noises like growls and chirps were coming from every side. Crowley would occasionally look up to the stars and check the directions, but after the tenth turn they took, Aziraphale began doubting his friend’s skills. He was about to ask whether or not they were lost when Crowley stopped all of a sudden.  
“This will do,“ Aziraphale heard him whisper.  
Crowley turned to him with a small smile on his lips. “Fancy a night under the stars?“  
“How could I refuse?“  
Five flaps of their wings were enough to reach the crown of the wood.  
From there, it looked as if sky and earth had exchanged their positions. Around, it was only clusters of long fronds like black clouds over a blacker canvas. Above, Heaven and Hell had met in a glittering moment frozen in time. Myriads of stars, cold distant diamonds, were scattered in an ocean of darkness, like the sparks of an endless fire. The Milky Way in all its splendour was offering itself to them.  
A breeze shook the peaceful atmosphere. A bat screeched. A second passed.  
Unable to speak, his voice caught up in this throat, Aziraphale sat with Crowley on the slim trunks, and lost himself in the immensity of the night.

  1. Which felt slightly odd with the sudden void in his pants.
  2. And become another fallen angel. 
  3. Angels and demons, as they don’t go to school and despite being God’s children, don’t have the slightest notion of biology or anatomy, whether it was about humans, animals or plants—though Crowley had done some—extensive—researches when he had bought his flowers—he had put the book on a shelf without reading even the first word and he never touched it since. Adam would be ashamed of them.
  4. Alcohol or not, he wouldn’t have revealed his secret.




End file.
